


(dis)comfort in the blazing sun

by eyemoji



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: M/M, Mild Transphobia, Multi, Royalty AU, Trans Male Character, based off of vlasdygoth's beautiful prince jacobi-advisor/knight kepler au/art, but he gets what's coming to him, goodby e jacobi's father, the summary is so Dramatic wtf ai, this actually will have a happy ending, trans Jacobi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 02:39:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11727792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyemoji/pseuds/eyemoji
Summary: The day Daniel Jacobi was crowned prince of the five Stirling Islands was a victory. A time for turning over new leaves. A fresh start.Except it's not that easy, is it? There's a war on the doorstep and a past to cover up and if one thing's for sure, it's this: There's a storm brewing.It just so happens to come from within.





	(dis)comfort in the blazing sun

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunderhavelton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunderhavelton/gifts).



> based off of the art/au by @vlasdygoth who is an all-round wonderful human being from what i can tell of their blog and art and writing so,   
> go check them out.
> 
> i will link the wonderful art in the endnotes please go stare at it for hours like i did.
> 
> also, this chapter was read over by the lovely @sciencematter i love them go check their stuff out it's gr8.

**first** . 

 

The day Daniel Jacobi was crowned prince of the five Stirling Islands was a victory.

 

* * *

The sun is nearly unbearable as it beats down on Daniel’s back. Its rays all seem to focus on him in a spotlight that sears through the heavy fabric of the mantle over his shoulders; through the dips and divots of a velvet vest that had once belonged to his father and which is now haphazardly pinned in a hasty attempt to give off the illusion, at least, that it fits; through the two layers of fabric that lie underneath and stick to his skin, held in place by rivulets of sweat most unbecoming a future king, though he can’t control it, as he’d tried to explain to his father once, voice faltering under the king’s stern, unyielding face, wearing its near-constant expression of mild disappointment and distaste.

 

_ He’s not here anymore to tell you that a real prince would have control, that a real prince would have prepared; not here to sit calmly and watch you flinch as he calls you that other name, that name that doesn’t matter anymore, until someone tries to  _ make _ it matter. _

 

A warm hand on his shoulder startles him out of his unpleasant reverie. A voice whispers against his neck, “Your Highness, it’s time,” and slowly, with purpose, he rises. His head is still bowed as he straightens out, eyes cast downwards, away from the throngs of people that have undoubtedly come to witness his crowning. A juvenile coronation this late in life is, after all, nearly unheard of. And to have two within the year? Unthinkable. The first, which had happened mid-winter, had been for his adoptive sister, Alana, and it had taken place within three days of her entering the royal family. Daniel is a member of the family by birthright. The reasoning behind his is… different.

 

The crown rests heavy in his hair.  _ Apt, _ he muses, tuning out the uproar of the crowd as the officiant says the last of the words that confirm him as the Islands’ newest prince, because he has the unshakeable feeling that his life, too, is about to become a much bigger burden to bear. 

 

The ceremony concludes, the crowds disperse. The sun continues to shine.  _ A good omen? _ His father’s words once again come rushing back to him, from a rare occasion when he’d been in a good mood, his tone when addressing Daniel, if not  _ happy _ , then at least  _ civil _ .

 

“In this family, we make our own luck,” he’d said, and for just a moment, with the way the light ran over the unfathomable angles of his face, he’d seemed almost  _ approving _ . Daniel’s breath had caught as he’d leaned forward ever so slightly, eager to drink in whatever wisdom his father was about to impart, now that he’d finally,  _ finally _ seemed to understand him.

The moment lived and died with his father’s next breath, as his jaw shortened and his eyes hardened and he’d said, “And you, of all its members, will need the most of it.”

 

The Daniel in the memory had said nothing, but at his side, his hand had curled into a tightly clenched fist. His jaw was set as he gritted his teeth, holding back the hot words that had immediately bubbled into his throat, because if he let them go, he would have demonstrated that he had no control, and if there was anything the king despised, it was lack of control. And in his own progeny? That would entail  _ punishment. _

The Daniel in the present shivers, remembering how  _ creative _ the king could be,  _ had _ been with his only child.

 

“My prince,” comes the voice from before, and Daniel snaps back to the present.  _ He has a habit of drawing me back, _ he thinks, as he finally raises his head to  take in the man before him. He’s not royalty, but everything about him-- from his springloaded stance, to his knowing smile, to the wide berth the rest of the people on the balcony seem to give him-- even what few are left of the coronation audience on the ground a hundred meters below hurry off when he walks into the light -- signify that he’s a man who not only has power, but is more than comfortable with it. It’s a look Daniel both admires and hopes to reflect himself, someday, but for the present, he’s content to gaze at it in the (dis)comfort of the blazing sun. 

 

Kepler’s smile is strained when Daniel meets his eyes.

 

“We have some things to discuss.”

 

“What, no congratulations for the newest prince of the SI-5?”

 

The light, teasing mood Daniel is hoping to project falls flat.

 

“In my eyes, you have always been a prince.”

 

Just one day ago, a sentence like that from Kepler’s mouth would have had Daniel freezing in shock before sending him to the farthest front or diplomatic embassy possible, far away from him, far  _ far _ away from his father. Even now, his eyes dart around nervously, checking to see that they’re not being overheard. If even the slightest hint were to get out…

 

“Relax, Daniel.” Kepler’s stepped closer, and his breath is hot against Daniel’s ear. “Have a little more faith in my judgement.”

 

Daniel swallows. “What exactly are we to discuss?”

 

It’s Kepler’s turn to look around with alert eyes. “Come with me.”

 

He touches his wrist lightly, and even that one instant of contact has Daniel biting his lip. As Kepler surges ahead, he shakes his head to clear it, before scrambling to catch up with him in a decidedly  _ un _ princely manner.

 

* * *

Kepler’s hands press into his shoulders, kneading into the muscle and relieving the tension stored inside. 

 

“Everything went according to plan.”

 

They’re in Daniel’s private rooms, the ones he’ll continue to use until his new ones are cleaned and prepared for him. Everything is rich, here, all red and gold and opulent and entirely to Daniel’s distaste. Even the wardrobe directly under his gaze as he stands relaxing into Kepler’s touch is unnecessarily gaudy, and the available space inside near triples the amount that’s taken up by clothing Daniel actually likes and wears. On the floor lie three pieces that definitively fall in the opposite category: the ceremonial mantle, folded neatly by Kepler when he’d removed it, taking both a literal and figurative weight off of Daniel’s shoulders; the vest, shucked off and crumpled in a heap where Daniel had thrown it; and the crown, which had fallen off of his head as he’d tilted it backwards towards Kepler, and which would have shattered if Kepler hadn’t caught it in time.

 

“As far as the rest of the population outside of the two of us are concerned, the king passed in his sleep last night as a result of unforeseen complications deriving from that riding accident he was in last week. Tragic, but unavoidable and uncontestable. Many a sportsman has perished under similar circumstances, and your father always did like to push his limits.”

 

“And in reality?”

 

“A semi-rare and extremely deadly poison, administered through a celebratory glass of wine.”

 

“Celebratory?”

 

Kepler winces at the interruption. “There _ is _ a war going on, my prince,” he says lightly, “and we’ve been hitting a recent spell of victories.”

 

He waits for Daniel to respond, and when he doesn’t, he continues, “It’s treatable, but the antidote must be delivered within minutes. Your father had no reason to expect an attack and neither did the palace. There wasn’t enough time for the connection to be made. You should be completely unconnected to any possible evidence and therefore shielded from any possible official accusations. You are free to rule.”

 

Kepler pauses, then adds, “There will be speculation, whispers, gossip. There always is. None of that will be controllable-- at least discreetly. Any moves against such talk will only strengthen people’s belief in them.”

 

Daniel shakes off both Kepler’s hands and the apology in his voice. He rolls his shoulders back, still facing away from him. 

 

“It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

 

There’s a strange stillness that comes over the room, then, and Daniel thinks that he’s done it-- he’s finally found something to say that Kepler doesn’t have a pithy reply, or advice, or warning smack for-- but the moment passes and Kepler raises his hands back to Daniel’s shoulders again, this time massaging all the way out and down his arms. His hands are softer now, somehow, and he’s standing a little bit closer. He doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t need to. The miniscule changes in his stance and bearing tell Daniel all he needs to know.

 

They stand like that for as long as Kepler deems safe.

 

* * *

 

Daniel is on the balcony again, this time alone. He paces its length almost subconsciously, his mind focused somewhere else, far away. 

 

His father isn’t the first person he’s killed. Years ago, before Kepler had been employed, Daniel had loved making fireworks with some of the other nobles’ children. They’d started out as just a band of rich kids with too much time on their hands and an overwhelming teen desire to play with fire, but as they’d put work in and reaped results, had gotten better, they’d turned their focus from child’s play to more serious applications, namely: the war. 

 

It had been an accident. They’d spent countless sleepless nights drawing up plans and gathering materials and somehow contriving a way to turn the tide in their kingdom’s favor. They called it the weapon to end all other weapons. Daniel had been elected head of the team, and it wasn’t just because of his special royal status. He was  _ good _ at what the did, was arguably the best of them all, so when the thing exploded during one of its final test runs, killing everyone in the vicinity, that is-- everyone on the team except Daniel, who had ran to grab the other prototype for testing… people had a face to take a swing at, a name to spit in the streets. A boy to drag through the mud just two years after he’d given them a different reason to do so.

His father’s eyes, disgusted, flicker through his mind unbidden. It had been an accident, but...it’s hard for Daniel not to take the responsibility, both then and now. To the public, the statement released had mentioned  _ negligence _ and  _ frivolity _ and  _ reckless undertaking of endeavors out of his ability. _ But they were  _ wrong, _ Daniel thinks fiercely, and he can feel the tears he’d repressed so long ago worm their way back to the surface, threaten to spill over onto his cheeks.  _ I knew exactly what I was doing. We all did. I was-- am--  _ good _ at this stuff. We just-- made a mistake.  _ I _ made a mistake. And they paid the price. _

 

He stops his pacing to lean against the very center of the balcony. From here, the old warehouse they’d used to meet in and store their inventions in should be visible-- he’s spent more than enough hours gazing in its direction over the years--  _ would _ be visible if not for the fact that his father had had it torn down seven months ago to make way for a new set of homes for the lower class. He doesn’t know how he feels about that. On one hand, the warehouse had held a lot of memories, both the best and worst of his life, but it had been rotting and falling apart anyways. On the other, his father was quite possibly saving a sizeable number of lives, improving them at the very least. Daniel’s pretty sure part of his mixed feelings stem from the person he knows his to be--  _ to have  _ been _.  _ In public, sure, the king had been a just ruler, and in general made reasonable, if not perfect, choices, but in private, within the castle, even, he had been merciless, completely unforgiving of the smallest error, the tiniest mistake. And his biggest target had been his son.

 

His father had always said he had nothing against Daniel realizing he was a boy. His only request-- his only  _ demand, _ really-- had been that he act like it. Prove to him that he was what he said he was. Show him he was strong enough, fast enough, whatever else enough he felt Daniel should be if he was going to be  _ Daniel _ .

He was the one who had expressly forbade a second coronation.  _ When you earn it, then you may have it... _

_ He’s an asshole, _ Kepler had said, tone calculatingly urgent, eyes widened ever so slightly and pinned on Daniel.  _ He’s an asshole and you’d be better off without him. We’d  _ all _ be better off without him. The islands would be stronger. More united. Happier. _

_ But-- _ Daniel had tried to argue, fishing desperately for a defense he knew he wouldn’t be able to find.

_ Daniel, think about it. He asked you to ‘prove you’re a real man?’ Bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit. There aren’t any ‘requirements’ to be one and you know that and I know you know that and your father? He knows that too. He’s just an asshole. Have you seen how he treats the servants? And I wouldn’t expect you to check on the guards regularly, but I can tell you first hand that the life was...less than ideal. Daniel. Listen to me. Your father is a blot on society too wrapped up in his own little world vision to really care about anything. About anyone. _

He’d looked Daniel in the eyes, then.

_ Daniel, this kingdom could be great. It just needs you to lead it. _

  
The sun is nearly unbearable as it beats down on Daniel’s back, and all he can think is  _ heat means flies. We’ll have to do something about the body. _

**Author's Note:**

> this fic will be five chapters i was originally expecting it to be 4-5k but now that the first chapter is 2303 words i am royally (ha) fucked. stay tuned for the story of How The Hell Kepler Got Hired and some Proper Gay.  
> catch me @justasmalltownai on the hellsite.
> 
> \--  
> The Wonderful Art That Inspired This And Also Murdered Me: http://vlasdygoth.tumblr.com/post/163737471721/look-i-love-king-and-lionheart-kepler-and-jacobi


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